The Best Deceptions
by ladymisskier
Summary: Heather's good looks, intelligence and popularity are no match for the the outright brutality of ghostface. But when they start picking off her friends, one by one, she'll fight like hell to stay alive. Randy/OC, rated T but may go up.
1. Chapter 1

It was a regular morning in Woodsboro, the same as any other day. The tall redwood trees cast long shadows on the streets, and the light filtering in from between the leaves cast bright shapes on a passing girl's face.

This girl was Heather DuVernay, a senior at Woodsboro high. Her face was peaceful as she walked down the road, kicking rocks with the toe of her converse sneakers and deeply inhaling the crisp morning air. It was eight in the morning, which meant that the morning glories were in full bloom, opening themselves up in different shades of deep purple.

Heather was tempted to pluck one from old Mrs. Hewlett's front garden, but stopped herself before she got too close. She knew how much it pissed her off to put time and effort into something such as gardening, just to have some punk kid snatch a rose straight off the bush. To busy herself she stuck her hands deep into the pockets of her green corduroys, pulling out a stick of watermelon gum and stuffing it in her mouth.

She wasn't too far from the school, she was close enough to notice something had to be wrong. There were more cars than usual. Police cars. The closer she got the more confused she was, her head turning back and forth, sending her dark blonde hair fluttering around her face.

There were cameras everywhere, and a feeling of dread crept up Heather's stomach, stopping at her chest where it settled and spread. As she panicked, she saw a possible answer to her question.

"Randy!" She exclaimed, quickening her pace to meet her friend, who seemed himself ill at ease in his surroundings. He was surprised to see her, his eyes opening wide up at the worried girl running to him.

"Heather are you okay?" He asked. When she got to him he wrapped his hands around her forearms and looked into her eyes. She was a bit freaked out at that, but otherwise fine.

"Yeah I'm fine." She brushed it off "Do you know what happened?"

"Do I?" Randy started "Casey Becker and Steve Orth were _murdered_ last night." His tone was serious, but there was a glint in his eye that made it look like he was joking.

"Really?"

"Really." Said Randy "Gutted, I'm not joking."

"Oh _god..."_ Heather looked away and to the women in business suits holding microphones and making money off their tragedy. It made her feel sick, and it probably showed on her face, because Randy squeezed her arms slightly and asked her again if she was okay.

"I'm fine Rand, I swear." She faked a smile and looked up at him through her eyelashes, untangling herself from his grip to instead link arms. "Let's just go to class and try to forget about it, okay?" She was trying to be optimistic for his sake, and for the sake of Sidney, who was no doubt thinking about her late mother, who died nearly a year ago today.

"Fat chance, they're interviewing everyone in the school." Heather sighed just as the bell rang. A shrill, crying noise that gave her a headache.

As people flooded into the school, Heather just looked at the ground and said "I'll see you in Bio, okay?" Randy nodded and they split apart, away to their first period classes where Randy would discuss film and TV with a class of his peers while Heather tried to solve calculus problems she didn't understand.

Heather stared at the empty wooden chair that the back of the classroom where Steve Orth once sat, never to sit again.

Amanda Pressly said that they found Steve tied to a chair, completely gutted, throat slit with the word "Jock" carved into his chest by the blade of a butcher knife.

Caitlin Hoover said that Casey was so bloodied up that they had to test DNA samples to see if it was really her. She said that not even her parents could recognize her after what she went through at the hands of that psycho.

She didn't believe either of them. Partially because those details are something the police would definitely want to keep a secret, and they definitely wouldn't be shared with two chatty seventeen-year-olds. Another reason was because in Eighth grade Caitlin started a rumor that Heather was a slut and cheated on her (then) boyfriend with the whole basketball team and even went all the way with them, and even got pregnant and had a baby. And her mom covered it up by saying it was her baby.

It was pretty low, especially for a thirteen-year-old to suggest that another girl's baby sister was actually her daughter and that she went all the way with the entire basketball team even though she had never kissed anyone yet. But Heather's policy was to forgive and forget, so that's what she did.

But after that she took nothing Caitlin said seriously, and Amanda didn't seem completely trustworthy either.

Heather's head snapped up when she heard a throat clear. "Miss DuVernay, you're needed." She understood, getting up swiftly and slinging her backpack over one shoulder.

As she walked through the schools linoleum halls, it stuck her how obscenely quiet the place was. She felt there would be a little more anarchy at the murder and disembowelment of two students, but the school was quiet as ever. The only noise being the ticking of the clocks and the occasional freshman late to class.

Arriving at the principal's office was a complete trip. She'd never really been there before, as she was a well behaved straight A student, never to get a detention or break any rules. She did, however, still feel a bit guilty somehow. Like she was wasting the officer's time or something. Of course she wasn't the killer. And how much would she know about Casey or Steve? The only connections she had to them was having the same calculus class as Steve and formerly being in the same modern history class as Casey.

"Principal Himbry." Heather smiled grimly at her principal, who let her over to the seat at his desk where she would be questioned. "Sheriff Burke, Deputy Riley."

Dewey smiley slightly at her calling him that, he always wanted to be taken seriously whilst acting as a police officer, but Tautum and her friends rarely showed him that respect.

"We're going to keep this quick Miss DuVernay, we have a lot of kids to interview," Heather nodded along "So how are you coping with the loss of Casey and Steve Miss DuVernay?" The sheriff asked.

"Well, I'm not really close to them or anything so..." Heather trailed off "But of course I am upset."

"Of course." The sheriff said dryly, without a hint of sympathy.

The interview went on for about five minutes, enough time for heather to be made thoroughly uncomfortable by the close proximity of Principal Himbry, and how he kept placing his hand on her shoulder as she sat. It was possible he was doing it to comfort her, but all he was achieving was making her skin crawl.

At the end of the interview Dewey handed her a note "If you could just hand this to Rory Marks in B23 that'd be great Hally." The nickname just slipped out accidentally and he was eyed curiously by both the principal and sheriff burke.

She took the note and walked out of the office, hoping that she didn't say the wrong thing to have them convinced she was the killer.


	2. Chapter 2

To Heather, her fellow student's happiness was morbid. How could they be so happy at a time like this. Isn't the idea of two people who were alive just last week having their closed-casket funerals organized tearing them up?

Maybe it was just her who was being eaten alive inside, but she certainly hoped not. The actions of her friends didn't help her case. They were acting like it was just a normal day, talking about what they were asked in the interview and whatnot. All the while their loving principal's voice was being blared over the speakers, practically begging them not to get murdered and make the school look bad.

"They asked me if I knew Casey." Sidney said.

"Yeah they asked me that too." Tatum replied. Heather was staring down at her lap with the ferocity of a tiger or lion or something. She didn't want to think about it anymore. She didn't want to think about what Casey would have looked like. All dolled up in all of her blonde glory, but with a swollen tongue and blood-stains on her sweater.

She was just thinking about whether or not Steve was wearing his lettermans jacket when she was shoved lightly on the upper arm.

"What did they ask you?" Asked Tatum, obviously annoyed that she wasn't trying in the conversation at all.

"Probably the same stuff," Said Heather in a small voice "How I was coping, if I watched scary movies a lot. Violent video games. All that kind of thing."

"Hey, did they ask you if you liked to hunt?" Asked Stu. The boys agreed, while Sidney, Tatum and Heather were confused as to why they weren't asked.

"Because their bodies were gutted," Said Randy nonchalantly, not even taking a break from stuffing food into his mouth. Heather looked away, feeling sick again.

"Thankyou, Randy." Said Billy, speaking up.

"They didn't ask me if I liked to hunt."

"Yeah, come to think of it they didn't ask me either."

"That's 'cause there's no way a girl could've killed 'em." Stu said, almost laughing. As if it was a joke. Heather didn't feel like arguing her case as a possible suspect. Even though she knew she didn't do it, she was still worried she might be accused.

"That is so sexist," Tatum began "The killer could've easily been female, _Basic Instinct?"_ She did have a good point.

"And Friday the 13th, and Alice, Sweet Alice." Heather added, popping a grape into her mouth. All this horror movie talk was making her feel better already.

"That was an ice pick, not exactly the same thing." Said Randy, "And Friday the 13th and Alice is the same, it doesn't count if there's no guts."  
Heather laughed slightly, trying to throw a grape into Randy's mouth and hitting him in the eye.

"Yeah, Casey and Steve were completely hollowed out." Said Stu, in an effort to make the completely disaffected Tatum scared, he just made the feeling in the pit of Heather's stomach come back. There goes her good mood. "And the fact is, it takes, like, a _man_ to do something like that."

"Or a man's mentality." Heather snorted.

She looked over at Sidney and Billy, and right then felt supremely bad for being involved in the conversation. Of course they shouldn't have brought up something that gruesome this close to the one year anniversary of her mother's passing. Well, passing was a nice word, murder was probably more appropriate.

"How do you... Gut someone?" Sidney asked, in a disgusted voice that showed she didn't really want to know the answer to that question.

But Stu went on "Well, you take a knife," Everyone looked at Sidney, their chatter stopping and the atmosphere becoming more thick and choking. "and you slit 'em from groin to sternum,"

Heather groaned. She was going to puke, because she couldn't not picture Steve there, sitting in his scratched up wooden chair at the back of their shared calculus room, his insides on the outside. His face was purple and there were flies buzzing around his rotting corpse.

"Hey, it's called tact you fuck-rag." She shot an appreciative glance at Billy, who ignored it in favour of boring his eyes into Stu.

Heather allowed herself to fall out of the conversation, looking at the blue sky, and the fluffy tufts of woollen clouds that had arranged themselves in patterns especially for that day.

A few freshmen were throwing a frisbee around and running on the green grass. She wished she could be like them. Happy and carefree, and not stuck in her own head all the time. Consciousness was exhausting, and everything was boring.

The only this that wasn't boring was good old fashioned gore. At least that's what Heather thought before it happened in real life. Now she felt like horror movies were insulting compared to the real thing. She certainly wasn't bored, she was fucking terrified.

And then she was shoved again "Right Hally?" Asked Randy.

"What?"

"I said you could vouch for me, I was at the video store last night, remember?"

"Oh yeah, sorry." Heather rubbed her head "We were there until, like eleven thirty I think, Frank Henenlotter marathon."

"Only the classics." Randy remarked flippantly.

"Nah, I didn't kill anybody." Stu said out of the blue.

"Really? Because the more you talk about it the more it seems like you did."

Heather walked home again that afternoon, and although the sun was on the opposite side of the sky, it had the same effect on her. Glowing golden orbs dancing on her baggy white tee shirt, leaping off and landing on the bitumen below.

Where the purple flowers once sat there was now small white buds, tightly wound. They were lost in the sea of green leaves.

Stepping through the door to her home she was immediately greeted by her mother, who swiftly grabbed her in a tight embrace.  
"I heard about what happened to your friends. I'm so sorry baby." The sentence was muffled by her hair.

"They weren't really my friends, mom." She said when her mother released her from the hug "I didn't really even know them."

"Still," Her mother said "I was so worried about you. If you were ever hurt, even slightly I have no idea what I would do."

Heather smiled at her mother, trying to change the subject she said "Where's Katy?"

"She's at the Patterson's because I'm out tonight, which means you're not on babysitting duty."

"Cool." She walked over the the fridge and got out the jug of orange juice from a shelf setting it on the countertop, when she looked back, her mother was gone, the car already pulling out the driveway.

She jumped when she heard the phone ring, she was too jumpy these days.

"Hello?" She answered. The phone was tucked between her shoulder and her ear as she poured her juice.

"So are you staying over tonight or what?" Tatum's voice crackled on the line.

"Yeah, Satan herself is over at the Patterson's. You know, the one's who like kids too much?"

"Oh yeah I know them, the ones who like them, like a creepy amount?"

"Of course. I'll be over at, like eight or something."

"Bring movies."

"On it, later."

"Later."


End file.
